


A Babe in Arms

by missdorothysnarker



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Animal Death, Asgard ain't no paradise, BAMF Frigga, Baby!Loki, Bullying, Eventual Thor/Loki, Frigga and Loki-centric, Multi, Racism, Sibling Incest, Slavery, Violence, brat!Thor, minor OCs - Freeform, narrator!Heimdall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdorothysnarker/pseuds/missdorothysnarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heimdall recounts the story of young Lady Frigga, who is appalled by the violence and bigotry at the heart of Asgardian society, especially towards Jotun war prisoners and slaves. After marrying Odin All-Father and becoming Queen of Asgard, Frigga insists on adopting an ailing, abandoned Jotun babe as her own, raising him alongside her children much to her husband's displeasure. But as the child Loki grows and becomes ever more alienated in Asgardian society, drawn to the darker side of his nature, and forging an illicit relationship with his older step-brother Thor, Frigga realizes that all her efforts may not be enough to save him from himself...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this story floating around my head for a while, ever since Thor 2 and Frigga's abrupt departure from the scene in order to provide some kind of motivation for her sons... 
> 
> As I adore her character and mourned the use of the Women in Refrigerators trope, I wanted to explore some kind of backstory where she has agency and an individual interest in helping the Jotun. It's kind of a mother-son love story exploring her affection and anxiety towards Loki, and is narrated by Heimdall because having a storyteller seemed like a good idea at the time. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, so I'll have to go back and edit properly. Thanks for reading!

Some say the story of the lost Jotun prince is nothing but a myth, a legend; but I, Heimdall the All-Seeing, alone know the truth of the tale. It began many centuries ago, one day in the Royal Square of Asgard...

+

The Allfather's banners of red and gold fluttered in the breeze, proclaiming the commencement Annual Slave Show, the master of ceremonies seated high above on the crowd on a marble dais, loudly presenting the Jotun specimens for sale who stood stoically, their powerful blue arms bound in chains of gold. The slave merchant was a big, meaty man by the name of Albrecht, extravagantly dressed in cloth of gold for such a lucrative occasion; he waddled imperiously amongst the slaves, poking and prodding them as if they were naught but cattle. 

He forced one Jotun with a face of peculiar alien beauty to step forward, closer to the arena where the crowd was waiting with lewd taunts and laughter, some of the audience members closest to the stage daring to reach out and touch the scored firm chest, one even tweaking a nipple harshly. The Jotun did not flinch, despite their best efforts to provoke a reaction. 

Albrecht swatted the bold hands away and began his presentation. 

'This magnificent specimen of the Jotun race was taken from the icy wastes of his homeland, to Asgard, by an Asgardian warrior-nobleman in the last skirmish at the borders...'

+

The more fashionable, moneyed members of the crowd, those from the aristocratic court circles, unlike the masses, were allowed by Albrecht to peer closely and pinch prospective slaves, while the other onlookers cat-called and clapped with glee at seeing the Jotuns being handled like dogs. The Royal wolfhounds were treated like gods in comparison, carefully groomed to savagely tear out the throat of any rebel slaves, or simply ones who had the misfortune to look suspicious. 

Albrecht proceeded to the next slave, one with full breasts and knife-sharp fangs which she was made to bare to the audience for their awe and amusement. 

'Don't want to be bit by that bitch!' hollered a voice from the crowd, made louder by the loose-flowing mead. 'Best keep her muzzled up!'

The giant hissed at the provocateur, earning a lash with the whip Albrecht carried in one arm. 

'… That one was cross-bred with the Vanir, not that it seems like much of an improvement!' he said, smiling self-deprecatingly. 

'It's a crime to think of such eminent peoples tainting themselves with the Jotun stock! But it must be said that in the last millennium, as hard as it is to believe, such mongrels were treasured possessions of the Asgardian aristocracy...'

The crowd booed, and some pulled faces of disgust, spitting on the lush grass. Another voice called out:

'I'd rather take an axe to my prick than stick it in some frozen Jotun cunt!'

'Yes, yes, we know better now... These blue brutes are good for little else but servitude!' Albrecht said, rubbing his fat hands together with gleeful greed. 

+

I was struck then at the foulness of the crowd, more like a mob, and that of the pig-like Albrecht, his eyes greedy. The Jotun slaves, on the other hand, seemed to be all the more noble and elegant, standing tall and unwavering in the face of such base brutality. 

'While not naturally renowned for their gentle temperament, my Jotuns have undergone the strictest of training regimes and know that to defy an order is to ask for the lash, or even death!'

Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement, destroying the illusion of Albrecht's slick showmanship as a whirlwind of rage launched itself at him, the Jotun who had been forced to bear her teeth, blood still flowing from the wound on her back. The other Jotuns joined her, thrusting themselves with their manacled hands at their proprietor who squealed in fear, writhing on the stage beneath them.

Immediately, others joined the brawl, men from the crowd grasping their swords and daggers with bloodlust in their eyes, eager to gut Jotun bellies and add to the blood already soaking the grass. A few shield-maidens entered the melee with Valkyrie cries, while mothers held their children at the sidelines, urging their menfolk onto greater violence and destruction. 

+

Watching the slaughter from afar was a dainty, slender, golden-haired maiden in a gossamer gown, the sole weeping spectator, her fists clenched. A brute of a man was by her side, tall as a stallion, with his hand clamped on her arm to keep her from running into the fray. This slip of a girl, I would later learn, was the Lady Frigga, future Queen of Asgard. 

'Monsters! They're all monsters!' she howled, struggling against the hand that held her fast, her cries unheard by the mob. 

Her pinch-faced maid servant, Hilde, stood behind her, hissing. 

'Those slaves are not the only ones here who could serve to learn the virtues of reserve and docility!'

Frigga turned to face Hilde with a look of loathing, her face tear-streaked and her hair unkempt. 

'You are no better than any of them. I despise you!' she said, fiercely, nearly spitting with anger in the face of her maid. 

Hilde looked stunned for only a moment before her face hardened. 

'I think my lady has had enough for one day. It is time to return to the palace.'

'No! I won't go!'

'Such obstinate behavior does not become a lady... Rudi!' The silent man did as he had been silently bid, none-too-gently picking up his mistress and carrying her away from the fighting which had began to abate. From over his shoulder, Frigga watched wretchedly as a small Jotun, perhaps a child, screamed and cowered in the distance from a burly man with a hatchet, dropping to the ground in submission before him, only to have his soft childish belly slit open where he lay. 

The mob laughed and jeered triumphantly; Frigga sagged in Rudi's arms, heartsick at the sight. The Jotuns who had not yet fallen under the blows were quickly shackled and muzzled, led away from the scene of slaughter for more whipping. Albrecht glowered at his subdued merchandise as he led them away, bellowing with rage.

'Imbeciles! Who will pay for my lost property now?'

+

Rudi's hold on Frigga loosened as she lay limp and defeated over his shoulder, but she had been merely waiting for an opportune moment to make her escape from her brutish bodyguard, leaping from his arms, flagrantly defying Hilde's command to come back, immediately! She ran into the arena like the swiftest of deer, silvery dress splattered with the blood pooling on the flagstones until she came to a halt beside Albrecht and his chained Jotuns, her blue eyes flinty with fury. 

'These creatures are not a race of monsters or slaves, but beings such as ourselves, and only those as foolish and hateful as you would treat them as such, as less than animals. Look into their eyes and what do you see? A reflection of yourself, a greedy pig growing fat off the blood of innocents. Look--'

Albrecht would have liked nothing more than to have struck this impudent slip of a girl, pretty and well-dressed as she was, evidently a well-born daughter, or perhaps even a lady of the court... 

'Little maid, do not trouble your tender heart with the existence of these foul beasts. They are of no more significant than the worms beneath our feet. Besides, my lady, how can one worry about monsters of ice when I am blinded by a beauty that rivals that of the golden sun?' He said, with a smile that oozed like an oil slick. 

Frigga was astonished and appalled at this open callousness and leering, as though there were not bodies leached of life still at his feet, and she looked at the man with transparent loathing. Rudi found her and stood at her side, hand clamped once again on her arm although he made no move to drag her away. Hilde whispered behind her: 'One of royal blood must never show weakness or feeling in public.'

Frigga's face hardened into a false smile as she collected herself; holding her head high to disguise the tears that blurred her eyes, she was spun around by Rudi, her translucent garment drifting around her like plants beneath the sea. 

'One moment, my lady...' called out Albrecht's insufferably smug voice. Jaw set, she turned to look at him. 'Muzzles are advisable, should you take a slave of your own one day. Otherwise, Jotnar curs are too dangerous to remain alive, much less in captivity or servitude...'

Frigga hurled him a last scornful look over her shoulder before striding away from the ghastly scene, her impressive bodyguard close beside her, a gasping Hilde just behind. She hurried out of the Royal Gardens into the glare of sunlight, vowing she would avenge the Jotnar, and pay what was deserved unto Albrecht. 

+

The years dissolved, centuries after centuries melting into one another, until young lady Frigga married Odin All-father and became Queen of Asgard, her flaxen locks crowned with a bright, glistering diadem made from starlight. Her king had a love of perfection, and for Odin, she was the ideal of all things beautiful and womanly. At this point in their endless lives, he believed she should do whatever her heart desired, and so it seemed she would. Odin was a strict and stoic man with his children, servants and populace, but he worshiped his wife, and was constantly delighted by her very presence, taking great joy in her exceptional beauty and skill. 

She was no longer a maiden, but a queen and mother, having adopted the manner of a self-effacing, decorous lady so as not to draw negative attention to herself and thus to her husband. Queen Frigga surrounded herself with spectacular warriors, a dozen graceful Jotun servants with skin like blue silk bound with black ribbons – most of Albrecht's surviving stock, bought and freed, but still in servitude to the Asgardian crown. Odin was not so lax in such matters, and would only indulge his wife so far. 

But Frigga had faith in her ability to overcome challenges, although her greatest test was yet to come... 

+

She daydreamed while sitting for a portrait with her children, Thor, Sif and Baldr, in her Weaving Room, which was hung with rich tapestries she herself had spun and interlaced with seidr to make them neigh invulnerable.

She took the children out to Idunn's orchard as much as possible, lifting them up into her arms so they could pluck the golden fruit for themselves, although of late Thor had been insistent of climbing the tree by himself. There they would lie in the sun-dappled grass for hours, gazing down the winding pathway of the grounds, the dazzling spires of the palace left behind, the vast wings and sun porticos, wide grasses edged with a dense wilderness of flowers. Here she was most happy, until they were called back to the duties of the court.


	2. Chapter 2

Sif and Thor ran ahead of their mother and Baldr to the royal stables, peeping around the corner into the horses' stalls before the two mischief-makers, both golden-haired and rosy-cheeked as Frigga, started shrieking with laughter, startling the animals inside with their sudden noise. Then they sprinted off, shouting triumphantly as the surprised wolfhounds sprung barking to their feet. 

'Come back here, you little monsters!' gasped Frigga, in between bursts of laughter, nearly stumbling with Baldr in her arms. Her children made her feel like naught but a maid herself. 

Thor and Sif looked back at her, grinning, heading towards the palace, holding hands and dashing through the kitchen doors. 

+

The palace kitchens were vast, with a large oven, an always burning hearth, the ice room, a long cooking table where Frigga's old handmaiden, Hilde, now the head cook, sat beating pastry batter as the other servants bustled about. Without lifting her eyes from her work, she addressed the young prince and princess:

'Be off with you! I've no wish to see either of you in my kitchen – I know your mother took you to Idunn's orchard and let you spoil your meal, stuffing yourself with fruit!'

Thor blathered at her while Sif stole a few choice pastries lying on the sideboard before they scampered out of the kitchen into the back hall, where she could hear the little demons clattering up the stairs. Hilde shook her grizzled grey head and returned to her churning, starting at the resumed noise of children's chattering, at which she spun around with her eyes flashing. 

'What did I say? Royal blood or no--'

Only to find the sound came from the toddler Baldr in the Queen's arms, imitating his older siblings, kicking his chubby feet in the air and attempting to mimic the sound of beating the batter. 

Hilde turned her gaze to the heavens at the sight, shaking her head and grumbling.

'By the Norns, sometimes I feel as though this place is more a bedlam house than a palace...'

Frigga only laughed, although the other servants stopped working and stared at her with awe and due deference. 

'Oh Hilde, at times I do miss you...'

Hilde only snorted and turned back to her batter, trying to hide her pleasure at the Queen's words. 

'Surely the Queen of Asgard has better things to do than spend her time in the palace kitchens. And back to work, all of you!' She snapped at the other domestics, who quickly obeyed, cowed. 

+

Thor and Sif scurried down a passageway into their father's chambers, where Odin emptied his bureau in haste, readying himself to join the front lines of the battle in Jotunheim. Before he acknowledge his children, his scrying mirror rippled; he rushed to it, watching the images move across the surface intently, thick brows drawn. Try as they might, Thor and Sif could see nothing in the mirror, blocked as it was from their sight by their father's bulk. 

When he turned to face them, the mirror was smooth, and his face grim. 

'Children, get your mother,' Odin barked at them, and his children scampered away, Thor looking back over his shoulder curiously. 

Frigga glided into her husband's chambers, the walls hung with a rich royal red, infusing the rooms with a golden glow. 

'You called, my liege?'

'My queen, I must go to the front lines at once, but I have received a most urgent message...'

Frigga looked, alarmed, into the scrying mirror. 

'How long has the child been there, lying alone on the border wastes?'

'They say perhaps as long as fortnight.'

'And he has survived so long while the battles rages from the east to west? We must come to the aid of the babe at once!' 

Odin looked cowed in the face of his wife's appalled anger. 

'Dear-heart, there is naught we can do now, the Jotun child has been abandoned for a reason. I must think of my men and victory-'

'Do not disturb yourself, husband. I shall go myself.'

Frigga drew on a silver cloak made by her own hand, shimmering with inter-woven seidr which would obscure her from sight. 

'Frigga, I do not think such action is wise. The wastes hold much danger for an Aesir lady, to say nothing of Asgard's queen. To endanger your life for the sake of an unknown Jotun runt is foolhardy. As my queen and a mother, you are needed here, safe inside the palace walls.'

'I respect your words, my king, but I will follow the path my heart deems fit. Fare you well.'

She hastened to the Bifrost, and Odin did not move to stop her; watching his willful queen depart with a vexed, yet fond expression. 

'She will ever forge her own path...' He murmured to himself, before turning back to the task of preparing for battle. 

Rudi, her bodyguard, shadowed her to my watch-chamber, not noticing that he himself was followed by a pair of giggling children. 

+

My queen has ever been a champion of the downtrodden and lowly in the realm, displaying an unusual integrity and lucidity of feeling for one no longer a child or maid, as well as a sharp awareness which is oft of aid, as she turned on end of bridge to a placid Rudi and startled Sif and Thor. 

'Rudi, if you would guard my children in my absence, I would be much beholden to you. I myself will have no need of your protection, as Heimdall's eye will watch me from afar.'

Rudi bowed to her deferentially. 

'Yes, my queen, if you so wish.'

'My thanks to you. Behave yourselves, my little godlings.'

'Mother, I wish to accompany you!' cried Thor. 

'Me too! I will slay the Jotnar scum and protect you!' added Sif.

Frigga's face shadowed at her daughter's innocent belligerence. 

'Not on this journey, my loves, but I shall return soon. Heimdall,'

I fired up the Bifrost, my lady waving to her children before she disappeared from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of got side-tracked by life and forgot about this fic, but I intend to continue it because I need more Frigga and wee!Loki love - who appears in the next chapter. 
> 
> If this feels a little stilted, it's because I'm not used to writing prose and am trying to get back in the habit. Also my tenses may be messed up. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Frigga strode across the frozen wastes of the Borderlands, shielded by her protective glamour from winter winds and enemy scouts, a bleak limbo where the weak and banished of the realms were sent to traverse, or perish trying. 

The queen's thoughts were heavy as she descended into the bowels of Borderlands, entering a subterranean labyrinth where captives of all races were imprisoned behind seidr-enforced glass cages with floors of cold stone. Most of the prisoners were listless, having lost all vigor and spirit alongside their homelands and families; they resembled nothing so much as the living dead. 

A petrified Vanr cowered in the corner of his cell as one of the guards of the Borderlands slopped the soiled floor with water, only serving to turn the dirt, food and waste into a sickening sludge. 

Frigga moved from cell to cell, looking into each as her face grew haunted at the scenes of such misery and degradation. At the end of the line of cells was a door, unlocked. The guards noticed nothing as she glided inside a poorly illuminated room, a storeroom filled with foodstuffs, as grim as the other cells.

In the corner lay a flimsy open chest producing painful, rasping breaths; Frigga fell to her knees beside it. Inside was a small infant Jotun – prone, dehydrated, unconscious; the deep sleep of those in a vegetative state. The infant's fight against death appeared to be on the verge of defeat while the queen of Asgard gazed down at him, stricken. 

She reached out with a careful hand and touched the babe gently. 

'Where is your dam, my child?' She whispered, stroking the infant's cerulean skin, softer than silk. 

'You are such a small babe to have survived all alone, imprisoned. Such an indomitable will, even while unconscious, betokens great things for you, my child.' 

Lost in a trance in which she and the babe were the sole beings to exist, Frigga bent over the chest for lingering peaceful moments before she lifted the infant, chest and all, and returned to Asgard.

Loath as she was to leave the other captives in their glass cages and deplorable conditions, the Asgardian prison could not be said to be superior to the one that lay beneath the Borderlands, but an ailing Jotun babe would provide enough battle with her husband for one day. 

And such was how Loki Odinson, Laufeyson, Silvertongue and Liesmith came into the lives of the Royal family of Asgard, and those of the Aesir people. To the Queen he was none of these names, true or false as they may have proven to be. To Frigga, he was only Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but an important one, introducing baby!Loki to the scene. Thanks for the kudos, and the comment - much appreciated, and glad some people are reading and liking. 
> 
> Also, I know meager amounts of Norse mythology (Greek and Roman was more of my thing as a kid) and same for the MCU-verse; most of what I've gleaned comes from JiM and the movies. Not that this is really canon; I'm pretty much making it up as I go along or else subliminally stealing from other truly phenomenal Thor fics on AO3. Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night, the Jotun babe lay in a golden cradle in the royal red of the healing chambers; everything had been cleansed upon the Queen's arrival, the sickbeds swathed in snowy linen. 

Odin, his face stern, carefully pressed the palm of one large hand to the tiny Jotun's breast, listening. Anxious for her husband's divination on the child's fate, Frigga scrutinized his face. The All-father answered her silent plea without a word, shaking his grizzled head – the infant would not survive.

'It is for the best, my love. From the markings of the babe's skin I know he is no ordinary Jotun foundling, but of the royal line of Jotunheim, one of Laufey's get. Perhaps the runt they call Loki – his seidr is strong but the body is weak. I know not why he has been abandoned on the Border wastes, but for Laufey to spurn one of his own does not bode well for the babe's fate.'

His queen turned to him with her blue eyes blazing. 

'You would I had left him to die alone in a casket in the bowels of the Borderlands? I care not who the babe is or his sire or for what reason he was abandoned so heartlessly. He is naught but an innocent foundling, and should not suffer for the sins of his father. I have brought him thus far and I shall not stand idly by to watch him die now.'

Odin said nothing in reply, watching Frigga as she tried to nurse the small creature, determined not to abandon all hope, she pressed the teat of a bottle to his puckered mouth. Odin placed a tender hand on his wife's arm, but it did not dissuade her from attempting to guide the teat betwixt the babe's lips. 

'I shall concede to your will in this instant, wife, but you will heed by my conditions. Should Jotunheim hear word of a Jotun foundling spirited away by Asgard's Queen, the war will only grow fiercer and bloodstained, for though Laufey left the child to die, he will not hold for it to be brought up in his enemy's keep. Nor will the Aesir people welcome a Jotun viper in the royal nest.'

He held his palm up, fending off his wife's words. 

'Let me speak my piece. I will conceal his true heritage beneath an Aesir skin, and he will be raised as our own, without a chance to sit on Asgard's throne.'

Having said this, the Allfather touched his hand to the Jotun babe's skull, from which spread a rose-white flush, painting away the deep blue skin. Only the infant's thick dark hair, so unlike the bald-scalp of Aesir babes, remained. Frigga sighed as she watched the Jotun markings wash away.

'My thanks for your generosity, Odin. And who knows what may come to pass?'

Her voice became a gentle lullaby as she rocked the babe in her arms. 

'My child, if you refuse to eat, how shall I see your shining eyes? Your shining, gleaming, no-longer-crimson eyes. Try, babe. You must fight, for me, if not for yourself.'

But the babe lay slack, unresponsive. My lady persevered, wetting his lips with the fresh cow's milk while Odin watched, compelled to kiss the crown of her head. 

'Surely you could find a Jotun wet-nurse amongst your thralls to suckle the boy. You need not debase yourself so,'

'They are no thralls of mine and I would not have you call them so. I am a queen, but also a mother, and I do not find this task degrading, and nor should you, husband, if the babe is Loki, prince of Jotunheim.'

Frigga found the notion of handing the babe over to another's hand disconcerting; for surely she would revive the child herself. Odin sighed, in no fit temper to contend with his wife.

'It grows late, my queen.'

'I shall retire shortly,' replied Frigga, without looking up at Odin. He caressed her hair with the awkwardness of one not given to displays of affection, leaving her doing the utmost to knead heat into Loki's minute hands and feet. 

+

The next morn, Sif restrained her fall of golden hair with a leather tong, waiting impatiently for Hilde to inspect her appearance before breakfast.

'Did you give your hair twenty strokes before bed, my lady? I think not, from the looks of that snarled mane. But I'll not have you keeping the king waiting for his breakfast, so come along with you,' sniffed the old servant. 

The girl just rolled her eyes and grinned at Hilde, scurrying out of her room to join Thor, her brother already showing signs of his famed temper at the sight of the waspish old woman who followed his sister. The trio traversed the front hall, Thor pausing as they passed Frigga's chambers before opening the door and running inside, looking over his shoulder at Hilde impishly. 

In the golden light of morning, Frigga reclined on a lounge, deeply asleep... The still-filled milk bottle laid on her lap, dribbling onto her ivory robes. Disrupted by the noise from the hall, she shifted as Thor watched his sleeping mother with awe and adoration. Sif began to enter as well, but Hilde caught up to them, shaking her head furiously and drawing the children away, murmuring.

'Hush, children, leave the Queen to slumber in peace. Norns know she needs it.' 

She cautiously shut the door, allowing the catch to hardly clack closed... Yet inside, Frigga had already awakened, putting the bottle down to rise stiffly out of the lounge. Praying to the Norns, she traversed to the babe's cradle, only to discover that everything is as it was the night before. 

Deeply unconscious, the babe Loki was chilled, even for a Jotun; body stiff, a corpse but for the clattering struggle of every inhalation. He remained unresponsive as she touched him, tracing a finger along both limp arms before recovering the bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frigga: 1, Odin: 0. In terms of parental favoritism, Thor may be Daddy's favorite, but we all know who Frigga's is... 
> 
> Many thanks for reading. Coming up: baby!Loki wakes up -- what do his new siblings (especially that naughty crown prince), and the court, have to say?


	5. Chapter 5

Thor and Sif sat alongside each other in the dining hall, devouring breakfast under Hilde's sharp eyes, leaving her underlings to manage the kitchens in her absence. When a disheveled and exhausted Frigga – a rare sight indeed of the regal, elegant queen – entered the hall with the milk bottle, both children clamored for her attention, barging out of their bench, upsetting it in the process. They sprang across the table to their mother, overturning porridge dishes, nectar tumblers and golden utensils. 

'Thor! Sif!' cried Hilde in horror, rushing after them. A stone-faced Rudi attempted to upright a toppling dish of herring, but acted too late, the oily silver fish staining the table linen. 

The godlings ignored the chaos they caused, leaping into their mother's arms like monkeys. 

With an tired laugh, Frigga embraced them, enfolding one under each arm. 'What farce is this, my unruly brood?'

Hilde hastened after to neaten the disorder. 'Forgive me, my Queen!'

Her lady merely sighed. 'No, it is I who should be forgiven, Hilde, for interrupting the repast.'

'Mother, where have you been?' asked Sif, her fair brow wrinkled.

'Mother, I wish to play with you after eating!' demanded Thor imperiously.

The queen placed her oldest offspring on the floor, prompting each towards Hilde and Rudi who were gathering up the upset and straightening the benches.

'Come along, finish your meal,' said Frigga, evading Sif's question and Thor's command. 

+

Rudi scowled at the crown prince and the sole princess, grasping after as they erupted with laughter and bounded around the hall.

Hilde removed herself, forced into a small alcove, slapping her hands over her ears as Rudi pursued Thor and Sif. 

Eluding him, the godlings demolished all in their path – a dish of sweets, a bread container, a bowl of cream – amusing themselves by tossing a spoon, then butcher's knife back and forth like a pair of professional jugglers. 

'Enough!' cried Frigga, projecting a voice of deathly calm. Thor and Sif broke off their game, immediately subsiding into an awed silence. 

Rudi also stood still, not above responding to the displeasure of his queen. In the pause that follows, Sif jumped to Hilde in her hidden recess and, discovering no space for herself there, hid her face in Hilde's stiff apron. With a grin, Thor shielded his eyes and dodged beneath the table. 

Assignment accomplished, Frigga returned the hall to order with her seidr while it's occupants perceptibly calmed themselves. Soon after Thor and Sif were seated at the table, contentedly consuming their breakfast. Hilde joined Frigga in fetching fresh milk for the foundling.

'My Queen, your repast shall be prepared shortly.' 

Frigga shook her golden head. 'I will call for refreshments later. My thanks to you, Hilde.'

'I mean no disrespect, my Queen, but you must keep up your strength,' said Hilde, hesitantly.

'You may be sure I shall, once I have ensured the babe has regained his own strength.'

Frigga examined the temperature of the fresh milk, shaking a few drips onto her wrist, before leaving with it. Hilde sighed and shrugged her thin shoulders at her mistress's clear devotion to an alien babe. 

+

Filled bottle at hand, Frigga stood gazing into the cradle, as if seeking a revelation. Loki's respiration was worse. Despite the darkness beneath her eyes, Frigga remained awake at night, watching over the babe, hearing his harsh, dreadful breathing from her lounge. 

Abruptly, there was quiet. Complete silence. 

Alarm suffocated her; heart throbbing, she gazed at the cradle, petrified of what she would discover within. 

Compelling herself to rise, she forced herself to cross the room, and was met by a pair of bright green eyes, the true, clear green of mint leaves so rare in Asgard. They caught her own eyes, gazing into them directly with a strange wisdom and self-awareness unlike any other babe she had ever known.

Frigga's face melted, smiling as she stared down at Loki, the red of the cradle hangings infusing the babe's skin with a rose flush, encircling him in a golden ring of light. 

Loki gazed keenly; receiving the teat of the milk bottle proffered to him, and starting to suckle. He gazed and gazed at Frigga within the golden ring of light, with as intense a gaze as could ever be imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I lied. I am always too ambitious when planning what I can get done in one chapter, but hey, wee!Loki's awake, finally! Nothing like Frigga's TLC. Next chapter is when intros are made and shit goes down, or at least that's the plan.


	6. Chapter 6

Frigga leant above the cradle, wretchedly attempting to persuade Loki to eat an apple from Idunn's orchard. Finally, she put a slice in her own mouth, masticating it before proffering the pulp to Loki, which he consumed ravenously. 

Beatific, the Queen smiled down at the babe, lifting him into her arms. Loki instantly grasped her gossamer gown, nestling into the gold torque that circled her neck. She beamed, clasping him closer, swathed in her arms. Yet when Frigga moved to place him down again, Loki persistently clung to her. 

She embraced him in a firm press before attempting to place him down once more... Only to find the infant held on to her powerfully. Frigga began to laugh in amusement, equally besotted with the babe. 

'My child, what is this? You must release me. It is time to loosen your hold – so mighty for one yet a babe!'

Loki refused, so she endeavored in all seriousness, earning a scream of dissent. 

'And some call Jotunns dumb creatures! By the Norns! Come now, Loki.'

Yet despite her best attempts, Frigga was unable to move him, whilst Loki whined piteously.

'May I leastwise remove my torque?'

She strived to remove it in vain. 

'This is absurd. My torque grows heavy, child...'

+

Carrying Loki, who hung on her neck like a sea creature fastened to a rock, Frigga strayed into the passageway, her face flushed the color of her husband's cape. She resumed the effort, unsuccessfully. 

In Odin's throne room, the Allfather conversed with a subject. 

'You must compose yourself, kinsman, before you settle this matter with your neighbor. The salts and minerals within your lands can be readily divided between you...'

His awareness of Frigga's presence summoned him without words. 

'Now, my loyal subject, I must bid you farewell. Other matters await Asgard's king.'

The Aesir commoner twitched before mustering the courage to kneel and kiss Odin's ringed hand. 

'My eternal thanks to you, Allfather, for your wisdom in resolving this affair,' said he, timidly.

+

The King gave a stern nod in acknowledgement before turning to face his wife, who had moved outdoors to the palace gardens. He rose and gazed out the window to see Frigga on the lush grass, with Loki bundled to her breast. Rudi and Hilde advanced toward her from each side, accompanied by Thor and Sif.   
Rudi and Hilde tried to assist their mistress in levering Loki off, but the infant held fast, shrieking like a Valkyrie. 

For a moment, the prince and princess watched their elders with furrowed brows. 

'Who is that strange babe stuck to Mother?' demanded Thor, suspicion and envy coloring his tone, a sure sign of his rising temper. 

'Why does it have black locks like Hogun? It is a very homely creature,' said Sif, accustomed to the russet or golden-haired Aesir and their hairless babes. 

+

The two godlings did their utmost aid the others, in the process making the circumstance worse – Thor jumped up and seized hold of a leg whilst Sif screamed. Loki was petrified of the golden-haired demons, screaming in complete terror. 

'Thor! Sif! Leave us! You are hurting him! He's naught but a babe!' Frigga cried out. 

Yet her eldest children were too great a frenzy to grant their mother any attention... As Loki would not release Frigga, they would not release their hold on the alien infant.

Frigga fumbled for Loki's tiny hands and feet, embedded in the folds of her dress, and attempted to uncurl them. 

'Bend back his fingers!' shouted Thor. 

'He'll bite me!' shouted Sif.

'No! You'll injure him!' cried their mother, shouting over the noise her children and Loki caused. 

+

Odin emerged in the chaos. 

'Odin! You must stop your children from harming Loki!'

'Do you not have any advice, my dear Queen, as the resident authority on the Jotun race?'

'Do not mock me now, husband, or we shall have words that will not be pardoned.'

'Very well, wife. Let us put an end to this foolishness. Everyone, cease!

The noise suddenly stopped, silence reigned. The steel in their father's voice persuaded Sif and Thor to release their hold, and stepping away, Thor glared at Frigga and Loki, now standing alone – Loki still attached to her as if another limb. 

'I see Loki has discovered precisely what he desired – a warm-hearted, pleasant mother.'

Odin's tone was sardonic, yet more amused than displeased. Frigga lifted her chin a touch to meet his eyes directly, clutching Loki to her tightly, no longer attempting to extract herself.

'Yes, my King. He has indeed.'


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be a touch OOC ... Thor is a bit of a belligerent brat, but he'll get better. Eventually.

The sunrise heralded the morn, and the palace stirred to life. Frigga slumbered in her bedchamber, dressed in the same garments as the day before, Loki still attached to her breast like a limpet. 

In the royal stables, the horses stamped their hooves and whinnied, while in the Jotunn servant quarters, dams suckled their babes before being called into service, and in the kitchens Hilde presided over the cooking of the morning meal, sharply directing hapless under-cooks and scullery maids hither and thither. 

Sif leapt out of her bed, impatient for the day to begin, whilst her erstwhile brother Thor slept on in his chambers like the lazy lion he so resembled, the domestics reluctant to wake him and face his morning distemper. 

Frigga wakened to discover that Loki had slackened his grasp, slumbering on deeply, curled up on her belly as though seeking comfort from his foetal form. She watched him for a moment with a look of fond content before arising and conveying the infant to his cradle.

Loki awoke then and stared up at her from the cradle, extending his arms, longing to be lifted up. Frigga sighed and wrapped a green-and-gold blanket around him that she had woven herself from threads of seidr. 

'Oh no, my child. We've gone down that path before.'

In the action of swaddling him in the blanket, she hemmed his grasping, plump arms inside. 

'Did I tell you, little one, that two more Jotunn foundlings are arriving in a fortnight? They were discovered abandoned in the Wastes, and aided like you. Perhaps I was self-serving in keeping you for myself, and you would prefer the company of your own kin. But I admit I am loath to give you up...'

She gathered him into her arms, rocking gently, pressing her face to his milk-scented skin. 

+

Later that day, Frigga, bearing Loki, wandered down a passage in the royal family's personal apartments. She moved toward the nursery wash chamber, from which she could hear the sound of water flowing into the bath. The chamber appeared vacant apart from the filling bath before she glanced behind door to the chamber pot, in which Thor was soaking a gasping Baldr, who struggled in his grasp. 

Laughing and securely grasping his brother by the foot, he dunked him into the chamber pot, which flooded with lather, but happily no actual waste was in evidence.

'Thor!' Frigga cried out harshly. Surprised, he let released his hold on Baldr, who fell with a shrill squeal into the frothing pot.

Holding Loki tightly in one arm, Frigga swept forward and picked up the unfortunate small figure of half-drowned Baldr, firmly clapping him on the spine. Tendrils of her seidr reached out to ensure the youngest child of her womb had not been greatly harmed. Baldr hacked and sputtered, starting to cry with a whimper once he had caught his breath.  
Thor grinned as he watched the scene, blue eyes crinkled with amusement turning to dismay at his mother's fearsome glower. 

'You are a disgrace to the royal house of Asgard, my son. You may abandon any notion of attending sparring practice today – Baldr might have drowned, and you seem to feel no shame for this foolish act of cruelty towards one who should be given your love and protection. You are not to quit your chambers until I give you leave. Go now, Thor.'

The golden crown prince's eyes flashed in mutiny as he scowled up at his mother, clutching two babes in her arms; he turned his glare not to Baldr who resembled nothing so much as a drowned rodent, but fixed on Loki, who suckled his fat thumb, wide-eyed at the proceedings. 

'Yes, Mother, I shall do as you command, although had you not been so engrossed with the welfare of a babe not even your own, one who is nothing more than an orphan and – and a Jotunn bastard – this entire happening should not have occurred.'

Frigga stared at her first-born as if he were a stranger. Had she a free hand, she would have slapped Thor for his insolence and churlishness that were so unlike the child she had borne and raised. As she did not, with eyes ablaze, she asked in a voice of dire calm:

'Who has been filling your mind with so much filth?' 

Thor's lower lip trembled, his fists clenched at his sides, looking like naught but the petulant, envious boy he was.

'There are rumors in the palace, Mother. Even you are not so loved as to stay the whispers.'

With that, the Queen of Asgard watched her eldest son leave the wash chamber, his back stiff with youthful defiance.


	8. Chapter 8

Setting tightly-swaddled Loki gently on the cushioned seat meant for discarded garments, Frigga cradled the whining, trembling Baldr in her arms, wrapping him in thick, soft, absorbent cloths while she murmured soothing nothings. 

Rudi entered the wash chamber, summoned by the sight of Thor storming into his rooms. 

'Shall I call for assistance, my Queen?'

'That will not be necessary, Rudi. Please ensure Thor remains in his chambers for the duration of the day, and that his meals are served to him there.'

'Yes, my lady,' said Rudi with a low bow, although before he departed, he paused at the sight of the Queen of Asgard tending to two squalling babes alone. 

+

At the foot of the bath, Frigga ceased the flow of water, examining the temperature with her fingertips, and deeming it ideal, she lifted in Baldr, who was now pacified and splashed about happily. She unswathed Loki, the infant wriggling in her arms as she lowered him, shrieking and thrashing about the moment his tiny toes came into contact with the water. 

'What is troubling you, my child?' Frigga crooned, attempting to slowly immerse him once more, but he scratched at the very air attempting to escape, his small mouth opened wide in a wail, green eyes screwed tight. 

She could not bear to see Loki in such distress and pressed him to her chest, rocking him in her arms and humming a soft lullaby until he calmed. Baldr watched his mother and the strange babe with curiosity, wondering why he protested so to a bath without having experienced the trauma of being submerged in a chamber pot by an unkind older brother. Then Baldr grew bored and began to play with bubbles. 

+

In Thor's chambers, the crown prince was sprawled across his bed, glaring at the golden ceiling high above. He chanced a look at his door, bolted from the outside, and his face turned petulant, before dropping his head back on a cushion. 

'Stupid babe. Bastard jotun,' he murmured to himself, crossing an already thick arm over his eyes for a moment, before he reached down beneath the bed frame, drawing out a bottle of mead that had been secreted away from the previous feast.

Pulling out the cork, Thor sullenly tossed back a gulp, and another, and another, his eyes as dark as the night sky. 

+

 

In his chambers, Baldr whimpered and trembled for the benefit of his sister as she helped to dress him in a freshly washed and dried tunic.

'Oh, hush now Baldr, Thor has been justly punished and you are well enough, so cease your sniveling. Now, what say you to a visit to the kitchens? I have word that Hilde has baked elderberry pie...'

Clasping her small brother's hand in her own, they started off for the kitchens, mouths already salivating in anticipation. Inside the bustling warmth and delectable aromas of the kitchens, Baldr appeared much cheered, until he caught sight of a hutch in a corner, inside of which was a tiny rabbit seated on a blanket. Crouching down beside the hutch, Baldr opened the door and outstretched a hand to caress the rabbit. 

Sif watched him for a moment, an expression of rare affection on her face. 

'Come away, Baldr, that rabbit is not for play,' she called. 

'Why not?' 

'When it is older and fatter it will make a nice snack for a warrior, or else a meal for one small as yourself,' replied Hilde, who had approached them and was wiping her rough hands on her smock. 

Baldr's eyes widened and filled with tears, his lower lip trembling. Sif sighed loudly, shaking her head. 

+

In the wash chamber, Loki sat silently in the emptied bath basin whilst Frigga immersed a cloth in a pot of tepid water beside him. She compressed the cloth completely and he permitted her to clean him with it. 

'You see, my child, this is not so unpleasant. I was not aware you did not enjoy warm water... You must continue to educate me and I shall do my utmost to understand you, little Loki.'

She carried on washing him as his limpid green eyes watched her solemnly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for the comments and kudos! I'm glad people are enjoying this little kid fic of mine. This is a short chapter, and a little fragmented because I wanted to give a glimpse of the different dynamics of the royal family. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for animal death. I don't think it's graphic, but be forewarned. 
> 
> This chapter reads like domestic farce turned tragedy, which is pretty much how I envision life in Asgard. 
> 
> I stole the name of Thor's horse from Frozen, because like other people I was going 'this is gender swapped Thor and Loki!' and also because I'm too lazy to be creative.
> 
> I think this is the last chapter with baby!Loki, but we'll see.

Frigga sat in the garden in a rocking chair, swaying Loki, loosely swaddled in a blanket. She crooned and sang to him lullabies she had sung to her other babes. He suckled his fat thumb and gazed up at her. 

When she ceased singing even for a moment, he became distressed and stretched up to her face, gazing penetratingly into her eyes. 

'I am not only yours, my child...' said she, laughing softly. 

He tapped her face with a tiny fist. 

'Oh, perhaps I am...' 

Shaking her head, she crooned the lullaby once more. 

+

With considerable focus, Thor clambered over the edge of his balcony, clinging to the vines that climbed their way up the palace wall, which seemed uncertain to hold his weight, but he scrambled down quickly until he was close enough to drop to the ground below. 

Somehow Thor managed not to be discovered by the guards skulking outside, and with a look of triumph on his face, the crown prince kept to the borders of the gardens, lurking behind shrubs, careful to avoid his mother's line of sight on the veranda. 

+

Loki nestled against Frigga, calm in her lap. He observed her throat quiver as she sang and crooned to him and mimicked her, producing a small humming sound of his own. 

Astonished, she emulated his sound, which he performed again. She crooned the melody of the lullaby, which he attempted to follow. Shortly, they crooned together, which Loki accompanied with his distinctive warbling sound as he extended his hand to touch Frigga's face once more. 

Hidden from his mother and the guards, Thor peeped round the stables to watch what was happening inside. Seeing the stable boys busied elsewhere, Thor clambered over the field enclosure. His black stallion, Sven, sauntered affably over, waiting while Thor mounted him without a saddle as he was wont to do. 

At the turnstile, Thor unfastened the gate. Sven urged it open with his nose, running off at a canter, Thor holding tightly to his mane. 

+

Baldr arrived on the veranda, running from Hilde, from whom he had purloined the rabbit. He darted towards his mother and tried to seize Loki from her, keen to hold the babe himself. 

Frightened, the yet-fragile Loki grasped Frigga at the waist, clutching her. She shielded him, holding him with one hand and pressing Baldr away with the other. 

'No, Baldr, my love. He is as yet too small to join your play.'

'I want to hold him!'

Baldr drew the rabbit out of his pouch, proffering it in trade. Loki made a fearful face at the strange animal, which panicked and thrashed, its claws grazing Baldr, who released it with a yelp. The rabbit sprinted across the gardens, disappearing from sight. 

Thor galloped past the rabbit on Sven, who reared and whinnied. 

Intent on rescuing the rabbit, Baldr raced up path and into the gardens, tripping over a slick patch of grass and tumbled down with a cry. 

Frigga could not rise to go to Baldr, hampered by Loki, who scratched and clutched at her. 

Rudi hurried outside, summoned by Baldr's cry. 

Odin glanced out his window, watching the disorder beyond: Rudi assisted a crying Baldr, pursuing the streaking rabbit, Thor astride Sven, attempting to stampede those underfoot. He shook his grizzled head, turned his back, and proceeded with the court business. 

The rabbit turned back, moving toward the veranda, the enormous Rudi rushing after. Thor kept pace with the pursuit before changing his mind at the look on his mother's face, and galloped back towards the stables.

Baldr clambered for shelter as the rabbit pounded past and onto the veranda, slathering wolfhounds at its tail.

Frigga ordered the hounds to 'Sit down! All of you!', for Loki was alarmed by them. 

But the hounds moved nearer, maddened by the hunt, the largest one taking the rabbit between its jaws and crushing its skull, drooling heavily through long sharp teeth. 

Baldr burst into tears at the gruesome sight, and was carried away, sobbing, by Rudi. Loki hid his face in Frigga's arms, shaking like a leaf. 

'Get out!' Frigga shouted, and the chastened hounds crept away, the largest licking its chops. 

+

She felt heartsick at what her babes had witnessed, but predators and prey were the way of the world, much as she wished for something better for her children.

She held Loki closely until his trembling ceased.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the haitus, all! It was essay madness again, during which all reading and writing for pleasure stops for a month or so. 
> 
> This chapter fast-forwards a few god-years; Loki is no longer a wee babe but a defiant princeling in a limbo between son/ward, Jotun/Asgardian, Thor is kind of a thug and could use lessons in maturity. Frigga isn't featured in this one, but she will rejoin the story next time.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

A tapestry portrait of first-born son and crown prince, Thor Odinson, hung on the throne room wall, woven by the skilled hands of his mother, Queen Frigga. Spun by the shimmering threads of seidr, Thor was no longer a brute of a boy or a randy youth, but a man, with a golden beard and bear-strong body to prove it. His grin was easy, but his sky-coloured eyes held the hint of a thunderous temper, a need to smite, fight and fuck...

A long-fingered ivory hand – no longer plump and pink – extended towards it, as if unsure whether to stroke the picture or tear it off the wall. Like the heir to the Asgardian throne, Loki was no longer a fragile, weak babe, but a winsome youth of alien beauty, with fine sharp features, glittering green eyes and sleek dark hair. Despite the pale pigment of his skin, his leather tunic and leggings, he resembled no other Asgardian, while his tall, willowy body lent itself not to brute force but to speed and agility.

+

Suddenly, Loki's eyes flashed and he turned away from the image of his childhood tormentor and future liege, whisking himself away to his bedchamber. His bed was swathed in green, black and gold, the oak shelves heavy with books, the wash basin in which he cleaned himself in private, far from the public baths. 

Thor was waiting for him, a smirk on his lips, and hunger in his eyes. 

'Why my prince, I must say I did not except to find you gracing my chambers, when you might so easily pass the time carousing with your companions or ravishing a maiden,' drawled Loki.

'Come now, brother, why so surprised that I would rather be in your company than that of others?'

Loki gave him an unimpressed look. Thor generally preferred to ignore the existence of his mother's Jotun ward and adoptive son when at all possible.

'Yes, clever one, you have caught me out. I am hear to inquire if you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of my spoils of war? For you see, the locked cupboard in which I keep them was found unlocked this morn, the gold, the jewelry, daggers and other trophies I've acquired over the years vanished into the ether. You wouldn't happen to know of their location, would you, boy?'

Thor's voice was even but his face betrayed his suspicion; Loki would have to tread carefully. 

'I, Thor? What use have I for the spoils of others? I have jewelry and daggers of my own, though perhaps not equal to your own. Search my chambers as you will, but I promise you will find naught.'

'We shall see,' growled Thor in return, who threw open his wardrobe doors, his chest of trinkets and treasures, strewing his books off the shelves to the floor and generally acting like the ape he was. Loki watched him blithely, thinking of the key that clinked deep inside his throat. 

Thor stepped onto the table, as if he excepted to find his trophies hidden high above, the table tottering at the bulk of his weight, scanning the room. Loki bit down his laughter. To think such a fool would be a king!

+

'Are you satisfied, brother dear? As you can see, nothing in this chamber is yours.'

Thor grunted in dissent. 

'I know your tricks, Loki. If you can render yourself invisible to the eye, why not mere objects? Besides, I know of your fondness for exotica such as serpent scales and dragon teeth, both of which were in my keep, having torn them from the flesh of the monsters I've slain!'

Loki glowered at him, hot with loathing – he was almost tempted to tell the lout what he had done with his precious trinkets, testaments to his narcissistic manhood!

'Your business is finished here and I bid you to leave without incurring further damage to my chambers, as it seems in the bedroom as well as the mead hall you cannot refrain from breaking the possessions of others.'

Deaf to his command, Thor drew towards him, face intense and predatory. 

'I care not what you say. I am the crown prince of Asgard, you are nothing but an Jotun foundling, an orphan boy, and you do what I will!'

With open contempt, Loki spat: 'Oh? And what would your mother think of her first-born son so abusing a poor Jotun boy?'

Thor drew so close that Loki felt his lips scalded with each breath. Despite himself, he recoiled. 

Abruptly, Thor pulled away. In a hard, flat tone, he ordered him to 'Strip.'

'What?' Loki asked, aghast. 

Thor was a man of many vices, but surely not so depraved as to defile his foster brother, who was not yet a man himself!

'You heard me, little one. Strip, so that I may see for myself that you hide no prizes of mine on your person!'

Loki shook his head with a laugh. 'You must be mad. Truly, I had not thought Asgard's golden prince so deviant!'

Whilst he spoke, Thor had come closer, caging Loki inside his arms, back to the wall. He looked so small and young between his arms, delicate as a bird's wing, yet with a spirit born of fire, not ice. 


	11. Chapter 11

Frigga glided into the room, stopping short at the sight of her sons locked in a moment which looked to erupt in either violence or intimacy, or both. 

'Thor!' Her voice was appalled. 

Caught, the crown prince cringed, more like a child than the man he sought to be. Loki drew back from the wall, released by Thor. 

'What foolishness is occurring here?' demanded their mother, looking every inch a queen with her eyes ablaze.

'It appears Thor has mislaid some trinkets, and he thought I would know where they are, although I can't imagine why,' said Loki smoothly, a wry twist to his lips at the sight of his shame-faced foster brother.

'Well Thor, what have you to say for yourself?' Frigga's arms were crossed over her breast, with Loki standing behind her as if to find shelter in her skirts, smirking at Thor over her shoulder.

'Mother, even you must acknowledge Loki's reputation for creeping furtively about –'

'Are you slandering me, your own foster brother, as nothing but a common thief? Surely even the mighty Thor would not stoop so low,' cried Loki, enjoying his part as the distressed younger sibling, persecuted and accused by his elder brother. For it was not so far from the truth.

'I have heard enough.' Frigga's tone brooked no argument, her attention fixed on her first-born. Under her withering glare, Thor was tempted to scream and run from the room like a naughty child, but instead he grew defiant. 

He stood tall, thick arms crossed at his chest in a gesture of dominance. Loki wanted to laugh at him, as though looking like a golden gorilla would intimidate their mother. Frigga was unimpressed by this display of bravado. 

'Really, Thor, you must do better than that to convince your own mother,' she said with a shake of her head, almost pitying her eldest's attempt at hyper-masculine aggression. 

Feigning distress, Loki hung his head, burrowing into his mother. 

'Oh Loki,' Frigga sighed. 'My unfortunate little babe,' 

Thor looked on in disgust as Loki groaned and wailed in her arms. 

'And my dear misguided son...' she opened her arms to Thor, who initially rebuffed her, before sagging into her embrace, overcome with self-pity. Loki peeked over Frigga's arms at his brother, enjoying his manipulations. 

'Of course he is the unfortunate, and I am the misguided,' grunted Thor, burying his face against her, although such displays were unmanly. Frigga said nothing, merely pulling each closer, touching them tenderly and murmuring with compassion. Loki hid his sly smile in the billowy folds of her gown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and strange... I'm not sure I'm getting the dynamics right. Oh well, that's what comes of not writing for a while. I imagine Thor as the alpha male who is really just a mama's boy inside, who counters his crippling insecurities by bullying those smaller than him. Or something. Luckily Loki can see through his bullshit bluster.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, haven't updated this one in ages, my apologies to anyone still reading this. I have no excuses, and am kind of rusty writing these characters. Not much Thor in this chapter, which is mostly an excuse for mother-son fluff.

+

Loki clambered inside the horse-drawn cart filled with barrels of mead, as Thor, Sif, Fandral and Hogun kept watch for the returning figure of the mead merchant. 

'Hurry!' hissed Thor, impatient to be away with their spoils. 

The plump, florid-faced merchant emerged from the pile of barrels; Loki had long mastered the art of cloaking himself in another's skin, seated himself and snapped the whip, urging the animal into motion. Satisfied with his success, the others move to adjourn at the agreed upon meeting place. 

'One of us should follow Loki,' said Hogun, shifting restlessly in place. 

'Aye,' agreed Thor. 'I don't trust him with the mead. You go, Hogun and ensure it arrives, every last drop.'

+

Far ahead, Loki glimpsed Frigga seated in a flowering terrace, supping with the handmaiden who lived there. As if instinct, the Queen caught the eyes of her disguised son and frowned, sensing a waver in his illusion. On impulse, Loki leap, somersaulting from the moving mead cart to the street below, much to the shock and dismay of the Asgardian passersby on either side. He bared his teeth in a grin as the horse bolted from the scene, mead barrels and all, disappearing from sight. Thor would be murderous with rage. Ignoring the stares and gasps, still impersonating the mead merchant, Loki flicked dust from his cloak, bowed to his impromptu audience and sauntered off down a dark alleyway, whistling merrily. 

The illusion melts away once he is safely ensconced in the shadows, but a glimmer of seidr in the air – not his own but so very familiar – alerts him to another presence. 

'Mother! Fancy encountering you here! Though if I may say so, this is a drab spot for the Queen of Asgard,' said Loki, jaunty as could be. 

Frigga's arms crossed her breast, eyeing her enigmatic son with an arched brow, thoroughly unimpressed. 

'Loki, why is it I feel as though you were the cause of the marketplace commotion, perhaps even responsible for an unfortunate mead merchant's missing goods cart?'

Loki looped his arm through his mother's and looked up at her – they were nearly of a height now he was neigh-grown – widening his eyes, imploringly innocent. Frigga laughed at his transparent artifice and led him down the winding street out into the sunshine, the renewed hustle and bustle of the square.

'Why do I have a feeling Thor and Sif are involved in this scheme of yours?'

Loki sniffed delicately. 'What use have I for purloined mead? I have no interest in behaving like a drunken fool like others in the court I could name.'

+

Frigga swatted at him lightly, guiding him to the garden where she sat, enthroned in a simple chair, Loki seated at her feet as he was wont to do as a child. He played with a blade of grass idly, wishing he could still curl upon her knee and be held like a babe. His mother hummed a soft tune, stoking his feather-soft hair, blue-black as ink like no other's in Asgard.

'What are you thinking of so intently, my love?' she asked. Loki was ever loving, but his quicksilver intellect seemed sharper, cutting as a knife, his face shadowed with intimations of dark thoughts. He sighed and leaned his head against her silken knee. After a moment, he replied.

'Do you remember when I was small and you gave me my first mount?'

'Of course, a dapple-coated foal named Knut, if I recall.'

'Yes, the very one. I was afraid of him, his height and mass seemed so great and alien to me, with his steaming cloud of breath. But then I fed him an apple from my palm and he snuffled at my hand so gently that I was no longer frightened to ride on his back.'

'I was there beside him, to catch you if you fell,' said Frigga, warm with the memory, remembering breathing heavily as Knut began to trot, Loki sitting serene as a prince, his face open with pleasure.

'Yes, I recall we exhausted you with our capers,' he teased.

'I felt no longer the maid I once was, able to frolic about, but a mother, many times over.'

On impulse, Loki scrambled onto Frigga's lap, earning a squawk of protest from his unwieldy long limbs. Capitulating, she rocked him back and forth, singing a soft lullaby to the babe he once was. Loki shut his eyes against the glare of the sun, let himself be held in a moment in which others did not exist.

+


End file.
